Adventures in Sydney
by Dizzle
Summary: When Oceanic Flight 815 disappeared over the Pacific Ocean, it left our two favorite stepsiblings stranded, for who knows how long. LOST crossover, just for the sake of a plot. Not your average Dasey...I hope. Read and see? Please do.
1. Fate

--A Word From The Author - 9.18.07-- Please read this before reading this chapter!  
It seems to me that what's happening with this story is that people check out the first chapter and decide they don't like it based on that. My assumption is based on the fact that about 70 percent of the story views are for Chapter One, with the other 30 percent being spread out amongst the other chapters. I'm going to attempt to change that...  
**CHAPTER ONE IS A PROLOGUE!**  
It doesn't really give away a main plot or anything, but it does provide you with some vital background information and sets up a little of the story. It is strictly Mr. Derek Venturi getting some insight from Mr. Boone Carlisle. That's all. I'll be the first to admit that it's not the best written chapter ever, so BY ALL MEANS, SKIP IT. Especially if you want to get straight to the Derek/Casey interaction. She doesn't come in until next chapter because, originally, this was a one shot.  
All I'm asking is that you **PLEASE DON'T JUDGE THIS STORY BY THE FIRST CHAPTER.** It gets better. At least, I think it does.  
Thank you for reading and taking this into consideration!

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**AN: I've always thought these two to be very similar, so when I was rewatching some season one Lost episodes, I decided to write this. I've got some more of it planned out, but I'm not sure if I'd like to keep it going. So, if you like it, tell me, and I'll put the rest up. I apologize for Derek being kind of OOC, but mainly it's because he's much older now and he's matured, which I assume he would do as it's what most people do. I also know that there's a huge time/age difference between the two characters. Just for the sake of the story, I ask that you forget it. Assume Derek and said character from Lost can just meet randomly and have this conversation and the whole time space continuum whatever would not collapse. Cool? Thanks. Besides, it's only going to be for this chapter, a little bit in future chapters.**

**Oh, and for all you Dasey fans, if it keeps going, there will DEFINITELY be some of that in the future. **

_Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or Life with Derek. I can only dream._

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As the TV flickered each time I changed the channel, I began to realize something. I was bored. No, not just bored, I was _miserable,_ sitting in a hotel room, in Sydney, Australia. Of all the places, Sydney _fucking_ Australia. I had been so adamant about coming a day early so I could "get to know the place", and here I was, lying on my super comfy bed, in my super amazing hotel room, which gave me a super awesome view of the Opera House and Port Jackson, anxious about the super day I was going to have tomorrow. Something about this situation was just a little bit too…super. 

Finding nothing worthy of watching, I got up and went to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on my face. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. What the hell was I doing wasting my time in here, I thought. If I was going to be in Sydney for only one night, I may as well find some kind of bar or club or _something_. The face that was staring back at me grinned and I recognized a familiar smirk forming on my lips. With that, I hurriedly put on my sneakers and grabbed my leather jacket, waltzing out the door.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, it began to rain. And not the type of rain where it's light and if you walk faster to reach your destination, you'll make it just fine. Oh, no. It poured. Rained cats and dogs, if you will.

"Perfect, just fucking perfect," I muttered under my breath, ducking into the very next door I saw. To my delight, I realized after scanning the place that it was somewhat of a pool hall. There weren't but about eight or nine people in there, so I assumed it must be some well kept secret. I sat myself down on a barstool.

"What's your poison?" the bartender asked, his accent heavy.

I gaped at him, momentarily forgetting the location I was in. After I had regained my composure, I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. "Just gimme a bottle of your most popular beer." I requested, slapping a bill down on the counter. The bartender smirked and walked off, returning a few seconds later with an opened bottle, which he set before me.

"You look like the shit just hit the fan."

I smirked. In a sense, he was right. Hell, they say bartenders are the best therapists. I nodded my head and was about to elaborate, when a guy, not much older than me, sat two stools away from me. We both looked at him as he complained rather loudly.

"Fifteen God damned hours, and for what?" he muttered bitterly, acting as if the whole place couldn't hear him.

Now, normally, I don't care about other peoples' business. I never have. But this man intrigued me. So, I eavesdropped a little bit, listening as he ordered his drink. Hard liquor. This struck me as ironic.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not a professional when it comes to alcoholic beverages or anything, contrary to popular belief. I drink, but not nearly as much as used to be rumored. But I do know some certain unspoken male rules that happened to apply to alcohol. Beer was for when you were stressed. Wine was ONLY on special occasions and ONLY when you were with a very special woman. Hard liquor was for celebrations. Hence why this man's drink struck me as odd. By his whispering and muttering, I could tell he did not have any occasions to be celebrating.

He noticed me looking at him and raised his glass to my bottle. "Cheers." I raised mine back and took a swig. I'm not a huge fan of beer, but this…this was some good beer. I was debating getting myself another when the guy slid to the stool next to me. I assume I gave him a completely confused and annoyed look because he spoke immediately. "Do you ever just want to kill a member of your family?"

I thought about it. Why yes, in fact, every day for about three years growing up, I wanted to kill my stepsister. Three years. That's roughly one thousand, ninety-five days if you don't count the time we didn't see each other.

I guess he could tell I had someone in mind. What, was he a mind reader? "Who?" he asked, curiously.

"My…sister. She was really quite annoying growing up."

At this, he smirked. "You and I, this meeting right now, this is fate." I looked at him quizzically. "I want to kill my sister, too." I nodded, keeping silent. "Well, stepsister. It sounds wrong in my head calling her my sister considering I've been in love with her since I was about fourteen." This made me raise an eyebrow, but he didn't notice because he was downing the last of his drink. He signaled the bartender for another. "I'm Boone." He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

"Derek."

"I have a feeling she knows." I was about to ask whether he meant she knew he wanted to kill her or that he was in love with her, but…"I suspect she's wanted to kill me a time or two, too. You know, I've paid men to stop dating her."

"What?" That sounded a bit extreme to me.

"She has this way of getting herself into the _worst_ relationships. And I bribe them to leave her. In fact, just this morning, I offered the guy she was with twenty-five thousand American dollars to leave without telling her. He refused, said his love for her was more worth fifty thousand. So I paid him. And you know what happened?" I just looked at him. I had a bunch of possibilities running through my head, none of which were the correct answer. "The bitch tricked me. She knew I'd give him the money, and she was planning to run away with him…and my money. Then he beat me up." Now was the first time I noticed a huge bruise on his cheek, and his cut lip and eye.

"Shit." I took a swig of my beer, listening intently as this man poured his heart out to me, a complete stranger. Ironically, I felt connected to him in some way.

"So, what brings you to Sydney, Derek?"

I was taken aback for a minute, thinking he was going to just keep telling me his life's story until he was too drunk to remember his name. I didn't expect the question. "I, um…well, I'm meeting my sister at the airport tomorrow, and we're flying home to Canada."

"And do you still want to kill her?"

I thought for a moment about how the last few years had managed to transpire. We'd been busy, the whole family had. It was just hard to get together. God, why was I rationalizing this? "I haven't really seen her in eight years. We talk, I guess. But for more than five minutes at a time, I haven't really been face to face with her in eight years."

Surprisingly, Boone didn't seem the least bit affected by this. He just nodded. "I can understand that. Growing up with someone in close quarters and being so close to their age, I can definitely understand."

I shook my head, holding my bottle almost to my lips, but not drinking it. "No, it's not that, really. We're just…busy. Incredibly busy. I mean, I don't know about her, but I hardly ever get to go home."

"Not even for holidays?"

I shrugged. "Well, occasionally. But it's usually only for a day or two. And the same with her. She'll go for a few days and then leave on the day I happen to come into town. Or vice versa."

"On purpose?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't doubt it."

Boone nodded his agreement. "Why is it that you can't go home?"

What was this, an interview? "My job. I'm in advertising. I've been living in New Zealand the past few years and it gets pretty crazy around the holidays. It's hard enough to get back to Canada anyway."

Boone nodded again, though whether he was agreeing or approving, I didn't know. "I work for my mom, I'm CEO of her wedding business back in the States."

"Sounds interesting. I can't imagine working for my mother." Did I just call Nora my mother? _Stepmother_, you idiot. Don't get me wrong, I love Nora. And she makes my dad so happy. But she really can't replace my mom, you know? Not that I could imagine working for Abby, either, especially considering the last time I saw her…what was I? Eighteen? Nineteen?

"She hates Shannon. And no one knows why. She screwed her over, big time. And I didn't do anything about it. Nothing. Not one thing." He finished another drink, in a long, swift motion. "Shannon's dad was rich. Really, really rich. And my mother took all the money. It should've gone to Shannon."

"What could you have done?" And I honestly meant it. If Nora had been rich and my dad cheated Casey and Lizzie out of their share, I seriously doubt I could've talked him into giving it to them. But my dad's not a heartless bitch, so I doubt he would do that. Wait, I didn't even know this guy's mom, and I just called her a heartless bitch. Who's heartless?

"I don't know. Nothing, probably. My mother is a stubborn, heartless bitch. She only gave me the job I have now so I would move out of New York and not help Shannon."

Wow, this guy wasn't kidding. The more he talked about her, said her name, the more I believed he was in love with this Shannon girl. It made me think, to say the least.

"Can I ask you something?" I was tentative when I spoke, which was an uncommon trait for me. He nodded. "How did you know you were in love with her? I mean, she's your stepsister after all. Don't you just think it could've been because you were a teenage boy, spending so much time with a teenage girl, that you just _thought_ you were in love with her?"

He smirked, knowingly. "Until today, I hadn't seen her in three years and I still get butterflies when she calls, even though I know it's only to tell me about her recent break up or ask for my help. I'm hopeful, I suppose. Tell me that's infatuation."

This guy really is a mind reader. I nodded and looked at the bottle in my hands, finishing it off and realizing that I had been through two others before that. Shit, walking home was not going to be fun, especially if it was still raining.

We sat in a very comfortable silence for a few moments, both of us staring at the wall across the bar.

"Say, if you rarely get to go home, why is it you're going back now? If you don't mind me being so nosy…" Boone asked, after we had been quiet for three or four minutes.

"My dad wrote a book."

He nodded and smiled. "Ah, I see. Well congratulations are in order, then." He raised his glass to mine again and I clinked my bottle against it.

"Thanks. He's a lawyer. Not an amazing one, but exceptional for the town we lived in. Apparently, his talents inspired him to write a book. And it's being released next week. They're throwing him a huge release party at his firm and Nora wants Casey and I, and the other chitlins, to come home. But especially Casey and me. It's going to suck."

"What's that?"

"Being with her all damn day tomorrow. She used to be such a bitch, you know? And she didn't ever mean to, she was just being Casey. I wasn't used to it. So I was a jerk to her all the time and she was a bitch. And that's how we grew up. I never meant for it to be like that. It just was. And it didn't help that we're both control freaks and stubborn as hell. She was little Miss Perfect and was the screw up. That's how it was. At the time, I actually thought it would've been cool to have a sister. And it would have! I really wish we had been close back then. Now I'm not entirely sure if I want her as a sister because then I couldn't want her the way that I do. And you know, she always tried to change me. That's probably why I annoyed her so much, because I didn't want a girl to change me, especially not my totally uncool stepsister. Trust me on that, she was definitely not cool." I paused a moment, sipping my drink. "I'm worried though, because since we rarely talk, it's going to be incredibly awkward between us tomorrow and I'm not sure I can handle awkward. I mean, it would've cost my dad the same amount of money had we flown on separate flights. But, oh, no. 'You two should come down together since you never even talk.' If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have been stuck in my hotel room for most of the day today because I don't know one damn thing about Sydney except for it's in Australia."

Judging by the look on Boone's face, I imagine I had finally succeeded in surprising him, although that was not my intent. I also figured that everything I had just said came out of my mouth way too fast for him to comprehend it all. I was rambling anyway. It was about time those beers started kicking in.

Oh shit. Did I just say I _wanted_ Casey?

"And I was concerned because I thought you were going to say the release party wouldn't be fun." He smirked. So I smirked. And then we laughed, for probably five minutes.

After our laughter died, he stood up and reached into his pocket. "Look, I've got a flight to catch in the morning at about 8:30, so I probably stayed longer than I should have anyway. But here's my card. If you ever need a wedding planned, or if you're ever in the States, you should give me a call." I took the card as he held it out to me and smiled.

"Sounds good. I don't have a card, but if you're ever in New Zealand, look me up." He tipped his invisible hat and turned to leave. "Hey, Boone?"

"Yep?"

"Good luck with your stepsister."

He smirked. "Good luck with _your_ stepsister." And he was gone. I stared at the card for a minute, with its flashy lettering and sparkly outline, and noticed a cell number scrawled in red ink in the upper corner. I smiled, his words ringing in my ear. Hm. _Fate._

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_Reviews are nice. And appreciated. And motivation. _


	2. For The Best

**AN: Sad. Only one review. Oh well, I wrote this anyway. I'm not sure if the rest of the story will be entirely in Derek's POV. But maybe...we'll see.**

_Disclaimer: Don't own Boone, Shannon, Casey, Derek, or anything they're affiliated with._

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"What do you mean cancelled?!" The girl behind the counter stared wide-eyed. She was young, probably twenty-two. And she was cute, too. If it hadn't been for the current problem, I would've hit on her. But, she _was_ young, and being so, inexperienced at dealing with such problems.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Venturi. We had some…issues this morning; all overseas flights have been cancelled. If you need to get somewhere in Australia, I can help you. But, otherwise-"

"And just what the hell are you going to do about our need to get to Victoria by tomorrow, hm? Are you going to pay for me to buy tickets with another airline?" I reached out my hand to her. "Come on, pay up. I'm going to need to get those soon before anyone else gets to them." She averted her eyes from mine and looked around for someone to help her. I could tell I was making her nervous, but I was pissed off. I really don't care whose feelings I hurt, as long as I get on a damn plane.

"Derek…" I turned to face Casey after she grabbed my elbow tightly. She was glaring daggers at me, making it clear she did not at all like the way I was treating this girl or handling the situation in general. It was then that I noticed I wasn't the only angry Oceanic Airlines passenger in that airport. Each other attendant was having a similar argument with other customers, and there was a huge line behind us.

I let out an exasperated sigh and buried my face in my hands, willing myself to calm down. I already felt like shit from the previous night, I did not need this, too. "All right, look," I raised my head and locked eyes with the girl. My voice was harsher than intended and as a result, she winced. "I understand that this is not your fault and that me being angry with you doesn't solve anything. But, we need to get to Canada, today. Or at least tomorrow. Now, how about you bring me your supervisor, and they can tell me what you guys can do for me. Cool?"

She smiled weakly and looked down at her computer. "Our supervisor is pretty busy right now, actually. I'm sorry. There's really nothing our airline can do for you unless you need to go somewhere within the country. I can offer you a refund, or you can keep your tickets and wait until we open flights back up again."

"When will that be?"

Another sympathetic smile. "We have no clue. They're not telling us anything down here. But between you and me, it had to have been something big, because it's the first time since the company opened they've cancelled flights."

"Great, now I have some incentive to watch the news." I retorted, sarcastically. She looked down again and frowned.

"I'm sorry, sir." I waved her off. "What would you like to do with your tickets?"

I looked at Casey, who seemed to not be paying attention at all. She hadn't been paying attention to anything since we met in the terminal, really. We may not have been close, but I could tell something was wrong. She wore no make up, was dressed in sweats, and her eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying sometime before. But most noticeably of all, she was being quiet. I hoped she didn't start crying again. Maybe her job was stressing her out? Or a boyfriend? Or maybe…

When she shrugged, it broke my line of thought. I turned back to the clerk. "Whatever. Just refund the credit card, I guess. I don't fucking care."

_Another_ wary smile. She should stop that. "All right, sir."

"What do I need to do?" I asked as I ran a hand through my hair, clearly agitated.

A few minutes later, I joined Casey, who had sat down in some chairs.

"What now?" she asked quietly.

"I have no idea."

"Mom's going to be so worried."

"Yeah. And Dad's going to be heart broken." I slouched down in the chair, leaning my head back. He really wanted me to be there for this. He was so proud and excited about his book, I felt horrible about letting him down. I have to admit, some part of me was proud of him for doing something he'd always talked about. The book was great.

Okay, so I hadn't read the copy he sent me…yet. That's what I had been planning to do on the plane. I still knew it was going to be good. And even if it wasn't, I still planned to be supportive.

Suddenly, I felt light pressure on my knee and looked down to see Casey's hand.

"He'll understand, Derek. It'll be okay."

I covered my face with my hands and tipped my head back again. How the hell was it going to be okay? I'm missing my dad's first book release because I'm stuck in Sydney, with my stepsister. Could it get worse?

"We should get a car. And then a hotel, before they're all taken." I heard her say as she got up and gathered both of our bags. "Come on."

"Good, maybe I can kill us by 'accidentally' driving on the wrong side of the street."

"Who says you're driving?"

"I'm the man." I said, standing up and taking my bags from her. "The man drives."

"Man?" She laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, right. Besides, after that comment, I don't trust you."

"You never trusted me, anyway. I'm paying. I'm driving."

"But, I'm a better driver. I've been in fewer accidents."

It was my turn to laugh. "Yes, but all the accidents _you've_ been in have been your fault. None of mine have been. It's a proven fact than men are better drivers anyway. You can't argue with science." I grinned, thinking I had won the argument.

"Fine, but if you want to be seen driving around Sydney in a girly rental car, that's your choice. Remember that."

Our eyes narrowed at each other as we approached the car rental desk. I gave them my name and my credit card. After it was approved, the guy went to the back to grab the keys.

"Make sure it's a manly car!" I called after him, earning a snicker from Casey.

About thirty minutes later, we were bitterly driving down the freeway. Casey was bitter because I was driving. I was bitter because, well, she was right; it was a girly rental car.

"Are you hungry?" I looked at her. She simply nodded and kept staring out the window. After we had left the airport, she returned to being silent. "Well, what do you want to eat?" She shrugged. And it pissed me off. "Damn it, Casey, pick somewhere. I'm not going somewhere just to have you complain the whole time."

"I don't care." It was quiet, almost to where I couldn't hear her.

"You do too fucking care. Normally, I can't make any kind of decision without you protesting against it. What the hell is-"

"Just go to the next restaurant you see." She snapped, interrupting me and turning to face me. Her face was flushed and her eyes watery. I looked at her out of my peripheral vision. Damn it, don't start crying. Please.

"Fine."

We ate in silence. She didn't cry, but I could tell she wanted to. She acted like she'd been holding it in for days. The waiter brought our check and I brought out my credit card to pay, when Casey objected.

"You paid for the car, let me pay for this." I shook my head, handing the card to the server. "Well, at least let me pay for my half."

"Case, it's fine." She looked at me, as if searching my eyes for the reason why I was being generous. We stood from the table and began to walk back to the car, with me avoiding her gaze. "You looked like you could use a little generosity." I said sheepishly, sticking my hands in my coat pockets.

That's when the tears started.

I hate it when girls cry. **Absolutely hate it.** I never know what to do, or how exactly to comfort them. Casey fell against me, burying her face in my chest and sobbing, her hands tangled in my shirt. Tentatively, I removed my hands from my pockets and brought one to her head, stroking her hair in a calming motion, unsure of what to do with the other one. Derek Venturi does not do tears. It's bad enough when I'm the one causing them. But I had no idea why she was crying, and that was a horrible feeling.

We stood like that in the parking lot for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was probably only like five or ten minutes. She pulled away from me, wiping her eyes in an attempt to dry them. I rested my hands on her shoulders, looking at her, silently asking 'Are you okay?'.

"I'm sorry," she managed to sputter out after a few deep breaths. "I know you don't like crying." She pulled me into an awkward hug and I could feel the tears she shed on my shirt through the fabric. They were cool on my skin.

"It's all right." We broke apart and walked to the car quietly, somewhat uncomfortably. She kept crying on the drive to the hotel, but not loud sobbing like she had done at the restaurant. I think she thought I couldn't tell, but I heard her sniffle every so often.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I helped Casey with her stuff and sat her down in a lobby chair. "I'll go get us a couple of rooms. Just sit here. You should call Nora and Dad, tell them what's going on, okay?" She nodded and once again began digging in her purse. I stopped her. "This one's on George."

I walked up to the desk where an exhausted man was standing. He hung up the phone he was on and looked at me. "Can I help you?" he asked, clearly frustrated by something.

"Um, yeah. I'm Derek Venturi, I stayed here last night. I need to extend my reservation, and add a room."

The man sighed. He looked as if he was shaking. "I figured you were going to say that." He brought a hand to his face, rubbing his temples with his forefinger and thumb. Funny, I had the same look on my face a couple of hours ago. "Look, I can't give you two rooms, unless you have a party of four or more."

I furrowed my brow. "Well, why not?"

"I'm assuming you were on an Oceanic flight out of Sydney, right?" I nodded. "Well, so was what seems like anyone who _went_ to the airport today. They're all trying to find a place to stay and there just aren't that many hotels near the airport, which seems to be where everyone wants to stay. So, I'm going to have to cram as many people as possible into as few rooms as possible, got me?" My eyes narrowed as I thought. Shit, this stupid airlines thing was following me everywhere. "I can offer you one room, or you can try another hotel, but I can't guarantee they will have a place, or that they won't tell you the same thing."

I looked over to Casey, who was almost drifting off to sleep in her chair. I couldn't take her anywhere else. She was not going to be happy, either way, so it was a lose-lose situation. "All right, whatever." I said, turning back to the guy behind the desk. "Can you at least give me a room with two beds?"

He nodded and completed entering our information into the computer. "Here are two room keys, Mr. Venturi. I apologize for any inconvenience this has caused you and I hope you understand."

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone seems to be telling me that today."

He smirked. "We're making a great impression on you, aren't we?"

"You have no idea. Thanks for the room." I took the keys, slipping one in my pocket, and walked back over to Casey, handing her the other one. "I could only get us one room. But before you freak, there are two beds."

She stood from her chair and picked up her bags, nodding. I found it odd that she didn't argue. But then again, she had hardly argued anything today. We walked to our room in silence and after we had become situated, she announced she was going to take a shower. When she emerged from the bathroom, I was watching a rugby match. I knew she wouldn't want to watch it, and I wasn't that into it anyway, so I punched in some random numbers and went to shower myself. I had already torn my shirt off and unbuttoned my jeans when I heard her gasp.

"Oh my God…"

I flung the door open, a panicked look on my face, half expecting there to be someone in the room with her or her to have fallen ill. If I hadn't been worried, I would've been surprised when she stood gawking at the TV. "What? What's wrong?" Weakly, she pointed to it. Apparently, I had put it on a news station and they were talking about some missing people. "I don't-"

"Shh!!" She said angrily, still staring at the screen, pushing a button on the remote to increase the volume. That's when I noticed the caption at the bottom.

_Oceanic Flight 815 disappears over the Pacific._

Obviously, that's why our flight was cancelled. The shots on screen were of random helicopters flying over the ocean. Then they started showing images of the some hundred passengers on board. A familiar face popped up and I sank to the bed behind me, utterly confused.

"Holy shit, Boone…" I said, barely above a whisper. I had just seen him twenty hours ago, and now he was missing…or worse.

"Boone?" Casey asked, intrigued and surprised.

I pointed to the screen just as Boone's picture was taken away and replaced with a skinny blonde girl by the name of Shannon Rutherford.

"I met…talked to him…in a bar, last night. For like two hours." She looked at me quizzically, wondering why I'd be so affected by a conversation with a stranger. "We just connected, or something, I don't know. He basically told me his life's story, about his job, his psycho mother and how he was in love with his step-" I immediately stopped, incredibly uncomfortable with the current position I was in, half naked, about to tell _my_ stepsister about a guy I had connected with, who just so happened to be in love with _his_ stepsister. Shit, talk about awkward. Her eyes held a questioning look and I kept myself from connecting mine to hers. "Never mind. I'm going to shower."

When I got out, the TV still flickered when the sitcom she had been watching changed scenes and the bedside lamp was still on. Casey, however, was out. I turned the TV off and was about to do the same to the lamp, when she stirred and grabbed my arm. She looked at me with sleepy, red eyes, and smiled weakly.

"Thank you."

"You're…welcome…" I replied, almost asking her instead of assuring her.

Then she let go and lay back down, still staring up at me. I smiled back, unsure of what she was thanking me for, and turned the lamp off, climbing into my bed. I was gazing up at what I thought would be the ceiling, thinking about the day ahead. I was exhausted, and yet I could not sleep. My mind was racing. I thought about Boone and the unfortunate turn of events. He seemed like a such cool guy; it was sad, really. I thought about Casey and what could possibly have bothered her enough to make her cry in front of me like that. I turned my head to look at where her bed was, though I couldn't see her. I listened intently. Her breathing was shallow and rhythmic. I cursed myself silently for not having the guts before to say what I wanted to say to her face. Scratch that, I could say it to her face. I needed to say it while she was conscious. I've been holding this apology for eight years. It's about damn time I let it out, right?

"I'm sorry for being such an asshole all these years." I whispered into the darkness before finally closing my eyes and going to sleep.

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_Once again, reviews; nice, appreciated, and motivation._


	3. Bruises

**Sorry this took so long for me to get out. I've been really busy...and out of town...and yeah. It's a bit shorter than the other two, not that my chapters are all that long to begin with. But this chapter was considerably harder to write and I'm not sure why. Partially because I had to get that other LWD story out of my head before I could finish this. (If you haven't read that yet, you should. It's called Make You Smile and it's short. Go read and review! NOW! Go go go!)** **Anyway, I'm glad to have a couple of loyal readers. Spread the word to your friends! I'm feeling a little bit unloved. **

**Anyway, enjoy this. Read and review, as always, please. **

_Disclaimer: Still don't own, unfortunately. I could really use the extra money, too._

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I awoke to the sound of the door that lead to the balcony sliding closed. My eyes opened slowly and I willed myself to keep them open long enough to glance at the clock. 6:47 AM. I rolled over to see what Casey was doing outside and noted she was on the phone. Who in their right mind who call her this early? 

Then I remembered time differences. And how much they totally sucked.

I kept lying in bed, stretching out my entire body and kicking the sheets down to my knees. No point in trying to go back to sleep now. I imagined Casey was probably on the phone with Nora and that she'd be back inside momentarily.

Unfortunately, during my wait, I got kind of cold. I was only in athletic shorts, after all. So, I pulled the covers back up over my chest. After I was nice and warm, I started to drift off again. I don't know how long I was in that half-awake stage. You know, the one where you're technically awake, but you may as well be asleep because you're kind of dreaming and everything that's going on around you gets incorporated into your dream. Anyway, I was like that for a while, when I once again woke up to noise. This time, it was yelling.

My eyes opened and I turned my head towards the terrace. Casey was no longer sitting in the chair, but pacing. Frantically pacing. And screaming touchily at whomever she was talking to. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and pulled my blankets off again. I stood up shakily, holding the bedside table for support as I gained my bearings. After grabbing my shirt from the previous day off the top of my suitcase, I walked to the glass door between Casey and I. She had stopped pacing now, but was leaning on the rail. I took hold of the handle and had a mental debate with myself for a good thirty seconds, battling whether I should go outside or not. When she turned around suddenly, and saw me, I snapped back to my senses and slid the door open, stepping outside. The cool morning air hit my bare chest and I shivered involuntarily, immediately pulling my t-shirt over my head.

Casey turned away from me abruptly as soon as I stepped outside.

"Look, I've argued with you about this long enough," she said into the phone, ignoring my presence. "I'm not going to keep doing it. Stop calling me while I'm out of town. I'll call you when I get back." The person on the other line must have been opposed to that whole getting off thing, because she kept going. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Matt…" _Matt? Who's Matt?_ "Matt…Matthew! Shut up!" She started yelling again, but not pacing. "That's ridiculous." Oh, nope. There she goes pacing again. "You're being completely irrational! And hypocritical! Never mind. Goodbye." She slammed the phone shut and leaned over the banister again.

I waited a while before I spoke. "Casey…" I said, hardly above a whisper. It was in the form of a question, asking several things at once; Are you okay? What was that all about? Who's Matt? Why'd you have to be so loud and wake me up?

She visibly sighed a very, very heavy sigh. Then she sniffed, wiped her eyes, and faced me again. "Did I wake you up?"

I shrugged and sat down in the chair she had abandoned. "No big." It was then I took in her appearance, looking her up and down. She was wearing work out clothes. She noticed and looked away uncomfortably. "Just how long have you been up?"

"A…couple of hours, maybe?" My eyebrows rose, questioningly. "I run every morning at five back home."

"Where'd you go running? And you realize that just because it was time for you to run here, that means it was earlier in Bangkok, right?"

"In the little gym thing, on the lobby floor. Yes, I know that, Derek. I understand time zones."

"Just checking. You packed work out clothes to go home for a few days?"

"_Every__ morning._" She said again, with an emphasis on "every". "It helps me get rid of stress. That, and talking to Kelley once a week."

"Kelley?"

"He's my…" she winced, obviously not wanting to tell me, and took a seat across from me.

"_He?_"

"Yes, he. He's my…therapist."

I cracked a smile, amused. "I guess people don't change after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, apparently offended.

I shrugged again. "That guy…Boone said that to me the other night when we talked. 'People change.'" She kept looking at me crossly, so I continued. "You used to exercise…well, dance when you were stressed out. And you used to go see Paul all the damn time."

Casey rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I'm still so predictable."

"Me too." I said, smiling.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, until she stood up. "I need to take a shower."

"I won't argue that."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey, I've done nothing but sleep since I showered less than…" I glanced at my watch "six hours ago, thanks very much."

She wrinkled her nose. "Apparently, it didn't do its job."

I knew she wasn't serious, she was just arguing like we were accustomed to. Still, it annoyed me. I snorted and rose from my chair, avoiding eye contact with her. "Whatever. I'm going to find some coffee or something." I stalked back into the hotel room quickly and then out equally as fast. I went down to the lobby to see if they had some sort of continental breakfast, which they did.

I fixed my coffee and sat down to eat. Two bowls of oatmeal, a bagel, an apple, and halfway through the paper later, I figured it was probably time to head back up to the room. Casey wouldn't want to sit in there forever. So, I picked up my cup and the paper and began walking back to the elevator, only to be stopped by a feminine hand pulling me into the little corner where the ice machine was located. The hand traced up and down my chest before finding its way to my head and entangling its fingers in my hair.

"Well, hello again Derek…" a soft voice whispered into my ear. I was forced hard against the wall as lips crashed onto my own. They only stayed there for a brief moment, however, and were soon traveling down my jaw line, to my neck and to my barely exposed collarbone. I bit my bottom lip as they worked their way back up to my ear. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Cassandra." I said huskily, not liking the sound of my voice.

"I thought you were leaving Sydney." She asked sadly, nipping at my lobe.

"I-I was. I was. My flight got cancelled." It took all of my self-control to not raise my voice above a whisper.

"Oh, poor baby." I could tell she was being sarcastic, but ironically, it only turned me on more. Her thick accent would have been enough to make me want her, but it definitely didn't hurt that she had bright auburn hair and piercing green eyes, not to mention a killer figure eight body and very advanced…skills, if you will. She had just been getting off of work from the front desk when I checked in the first day and, needless to say, we hit it off very well.

I smirked through the next kiss. "What can I say?" Cassandra kept a hand on my chest and peeked around the corner.

"I have to get back to work before someone comes up to the desk. But maybe I can bring you some towels later?"

I grinned at the thought of her in nothing but a towel, but immediately frowned when that image was replaced with one of Casey. _Shit._

"What?"

"No can do, babe. I'm in a room with my…sister." I paused before saying the word, not completely sure why I had been referring to her as that lately. I hadn't done it all my life, why start now?

She pouted. "I see." By the cross look on her face, I assumed she took the pause to mean something else. I didn't even know what it meant, but I knew it didn't mean what she thought it meant. Didn't it? Wait…I'm confusing myself.

Wanting to avoid any sort of drama that could ensue, I tried to explain my situation, even though I had a feeling she wouldn't care. "We were going home because our dad published a book, but that whole 815 thing happened and Oceanic cancelled all their overseas flights 'until further notice'."

She nodded, seeming to believe me. Not that she had any reason not to. "I have to go work, but I'll figure something out." She turned to walk away, blowing a kiss seductively over her shoulder. I grinned and continued to walk to my room. I couldn't say I wasn't still annoyed at Casey, but I had to admit that it was kind of an irrational reason to be mad. Fortunately, all of my anger left me as soon as I opened the door.

Apparently, she had taken an incredibly long shower because she was standing before me in a pair of denim shorts and her bra, her hair wrapped in a towel. She hadn't noticed me come in, because her back was to me. Once I had shut the door, however, she heard me and spun to face me, holding her shirt up in front of her chest. I was unfazed and clearly distracted.

"Derek!" she squealed, completely surprised at my sudden appearance. I ignored her and walked towards her, almost too quickly, as she backed up. I grabbed her arm tightly and twirled her so that she was facing away from me, eyeing her back carefully.

"What happened to you?" I asked, running my hand lightly over a large bruise that had formed at the small of her back. She winced and pulled away from me. I let her.

"I fell." She lied.

"Bullshit." My eyes narrowed as I advanced on her. She retreated cautiously, bumping into the bed and forcing herself to sit on it. I kept coming towards her, getting in her face. "What happened Casey?"

"I _fell_." She lied again, but this time she continued. "On the treadmill when I was running. I guess it bruised."

If it was possible, my eyes tightened further. She avoided meeting hers with mine, looking at the bedspread interestedly.

"Casey…" I started in a threatening tone. But before I could finish, she stood up, forcing me to back up a couple of steps, and glared at me.

"Chill the heck out, Derek. I'm just a klutz. You of all people should remember that." She spat icily. I inwardly winced as I thought about the nickname I had given her back in high school. It wasn't my fault she couldn't walk straight whenever she had a crush on a guy that was in her presence. Hell, she could barely walk straight when she was just walking in general.

We stood, fiercely staring at one another, both refusing to back down. Not that this should have been an argument. But wasn't that how it always seemed to happen?

"Well, _excuse me_, Princess, for looking out for your well-being. Now I know, for future reference, just to keep my mouth shut." I shot back at her, clearly angry.

"No, I don't think you do know, Derek. You've never been able to keep your mouth shut. You _always_ have to say something, just at the right time, like a petulant child. Are you even capable of not speaking? Hm?"

"I guess we share that trait, don't we, Case?"

She stiffened irritably at the use of her shortened name. She had never really liked it, only tolerated it when we were younger. Now, it appeared, she wasn't going to do even that.

"Do NOT call me Case." She shouted. Before I could respond, she picked up her bag from the bed and stomped into the bathroom.

I followed her with my eyes, and then stormed outside onto the balcony, where I was reminded of our argument from earlier. I dug my hands into my hair, grabbing two large fistfuls harshly. Normally it didn't bother me, arguing with her. But she had been so moody in the last eighteen hours. I was frustrated, naturally. This was a complete one eighty from yesterday. I was totally not expecting it, however habitual it felt. Eventually, I returned to the room, only to find Casey had not come out of the bathroom. Not that I blamed her. Honestly, I wouldn't have come back in, but Australia is rather cold this time of year, especially when the sun is just coming up. I pulled on some jeans and a nicer shirt, then lay on my bed and proceeded to flip on the TV. I changed channels repeatedly, finally relenting and watching the morning news.

When the thirty-minute broadcast was over, I glanced at the clock, beginning to wonder if she was ever going to leave the bathroom. On cue, the door opened to reveal a very dressed and very cheerful Casey. I glowered inwardly. What the hell did she have to be cheerful about?

As if she could read my mind, she tossed her bag into her suitcase and smiled at me. "Let's go out!" she said excitedly. Like I said, moody.

I glanced at her, only a moment, before returning my eyes to the television. "What?" I snapped, finding it hard to hide my inexorable anger. I noticed her smile falter for a second, but she quickly regained it. She walked over to my side of the bed and grabbed me by the arm.

"Come _on_, Derek! We're in Sydney! The least we should do is explore it a little bit. We definitely can't just sit in a hotel all day."

I snorted. Of course we could, not that I really wanted to. However, I couldn't really say I wanted to spend the day acting as Casey's chauffeur, taking her wherever she wanted to go and carrying her shopping bags for her, which I was sure I would end up doing.

She noticed I wasn't yielding to her and frowned. "Derek…" she pouted, pleading with me. I hate to admit it, but it was kind of cute. I sighed loudly and held out my hand for her to help me up. She squealed with delight and pulled me up quickly. I also hated to admit this, but her giddiness was kind of contagious. "Oh, yes!" she said animatedly. "We're going to have so much fun, you have no idea. I even have a list of stuff for us to do." She rambled on and on as I searched for some shoes and tried my hardest to listen. Not that it worked. I picked up my jacket and stood by the door while I waited on her to follow me outside. That's when I noticed she was still wearing those shorts.

"You're going to get cold." I stated, matter-of-factly. She scowled, obviously not wanting to change. Not that I cared, those shorts displayed her well-sculpted legs quite nicely. But I didn't want to listen to her complain about being cold. And I certainly wasn't going to let her wear _my_ coat. Then I'd be cold.

"I'll be fine, thanks." She said.

I shrugged. "All right, whatever you say. I'm just letting you know that it's cold outside and that I don't want to listen to you whine about it."

"I won't whine. I promise." With that, she picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder, walking in front of me out the door. I rolled my eyes and followed suit, silently hoping she would keep her promise.


	4. Falling By The Wayside

**So, this chapter is a bit longer than the past few. And the end...it gets kind of raunchy. But it's not Dasey raunchy, for which I apologize. It'll come soon, I promise. It also ends kind of abruptly. Sorry for that, too. I just couldn't come up with a better way to end it, so...I pretty much just didn't. I hope you guys like this okay. And I hope it's not too much. If so, just let me know.**

**Also, thanks for the reviews. I appreciate it.**

_Disclaimer: Ironically, I **still** don't own this. Hm. Surprise, surprise. _

* * *

"Please?" 

"No."

"Pleeeeeeaaaaase?"

"No."

"Der-EK." The corners of my mouth turned into a smirk for a brief moment. I couldn't remember the last time she yelled my name like that; with emphasis on the "ek". I always found it humorous.

"What did I tell you before we left the hotel room?" I queried, looking at her out of my peripheral vision.

"I'm not complaining! I just asked a simple question." She protested.

"Yeah, well, the answer to your simple question is still no."

"But Derek, it's freezing! The least you could do is let me borrow your stupid jacket until we get back to the car."

I stopped in the sidewalk suddenly and she stopped with me, people bumping into us both, muttering remarks under their breath. I looked at my stepsister irately. "First of all, that's complaining that you're doing right now. Second, it isn't _freezing_ out here; it's probably only sixty or so. Third, the car isn't but a couple more blocks, I think you'll be all right. And finally, I told you it was going to be cold, so shut up, okay?" I nodded my head at her and began to walk again, only to be stopped.

"Derek…" I froze with my back to her and my shoulders tensed up. She said my name so helplessly, she sounded so vulnerable, almost like she had the night before when she was crying, I couldn't help but turn around. And when I did, I was greeted with the same pout that she'd used to get me to come on this stupid venture with her.

I had to admit though, up until this current walk, we'd been having fun. We had been all over Sydney, starting with the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which was just a little ways from our hotel and could be seen clearly from my window in the room I had before. We went and drove around in The Rocks, the oldest neighborhood in the city. After that, we toured the Chinese Gardens of Friendship and walked around Chinatown for a bit, where we, or I guess I should say Casey, did some shopping. When she had finally finished shopping there, she insisted on us going to Paddy's market in Haymarket. It was a huge flea market, the biggest of any I'd ever been to-not that I'd been to many. Casey's eyes lit up as soon as we arrived and I was forced to give her a limit on how long she could stay there. The time constraint apparently meant nothing to her, as she shopped way past the allotted amount.

That was when we decided we were hungry and walked a few blocks to a small café someone had told us was a great spot to grab some quick lunch. We really were having a good time hanging out with each other, arguing minimally and only about different parts of the attractions we had seen thus far. And then we went outside. And she got cold. And she complained. And here we are now.

Upon facing her, I sighed and my shoulders fell in defeat as I slowly shrugged the leather fabric from my body, holding it out to her. She smiled genuinely and took it from me. She handed me the bags she was holding and draped it over her own shoulders. I handed them back to her and dug my hands deep into my jean pockets, trudging on, walking in the direction we had left the car. The hairs on my arm perked up as the brisk air waved over them while I walked. I instinctively drew my arms closer to my body, glancing at Casey as she caught up with me and looking back ahead of us a moment later. She noticed the goose bumps and smiled apologetically.

We walked the rest of the way to the car in silence. Finally, we reached it and got in. I turned it on and waited for the heater to warm up.

"Derek?" She was so quiet, I wouldn't have known she said something if it wasn't for her hand resting on my arm. I looked at it and made sure to avoid eye contact with her.

"Hm?" was all I said.

"Thanks for giving me your jacket, even if I had to pry it off of you. It was nice of you."

I nodded in response, keeping my eyes on the road as I pulled away from the curb. We both stayed quiet for a couple more minutes, before I finally spoke. "We're going back to the hotel and you're going to put on something warmer." Though it had come out as sort of an order, I meant it as more of a request. Apparently, that was how she took it, as well.

"All right, I'll change." She removed her hand from my arm, then, and I felt the warmth leave it as well. Again, we didn't talk until we reached our destination.

I pulled under the awning in front of our hotel and parked, the doors unlocking themselves automatically. Casey gathered her bags and reached for the handle. "Are you going to come up?" she asked. I shook my head so she shrugged and shut the door, walking through the revolving door.

Settling back against the seat, I leaned my head on the headrest and shut my eyes, only to be interrupted by the annoying blaring of music coming from my pocket. I recognized the song and a smile came to my lips. Digging around, I found my cell phone and flipped it open, not even bothering to look at the screen. "Hey." I said softly.

"Hey yourself." The feminine voice said in my ear. "What's up?"

"Oh you know, the usual. Stranded in a foreign country with my stepsister whom I haven't spoken to in roughly eight years, no big out of the ordinary." I smirked, my eyes still closed.

"I heard. How are you and Casey getting along?" she asked.

"Surprisingly well, right now. I don't have time to explain it all to you at the moment, I'll have to give you the details when I'm home."

"When _are _you coming home, Derek? I miss you." Her voice was pleading and mournful.

"I know, I miss you, too. Soon, I hope. The airline said they would call, but it's barely been twenty-four hours, who knows how long this 815 thing is going to take." I paused, the smile which had formed on my lips fading. My eyes opened slowly. I swallowed hard, not wanting to know the answer to the question I was about to ask. "How's Dad?"

I heard Marti breathe deep. "Well, you know, as well as one can be when he's published a book and his oldest children can't be here to share in the joy."

"That bad?"

"He's disappointed, Derek. What can I say? I mean, he knows it's not your fault. He's not blaming you."

"That's a first." I said quietly, mostly to myself. She heard me, though.

"Derek." She said sternly.

"I'm sorry. It's true, though."

"Now would not be the time to flaunt that in front of him, I don't think."

"I wasn't considering it. I was just…I don't know, voicing my opinion."

"You've always been good at that."

"The best." I replied, my smile coming back.

"Why haven't you called him?"

What was that huge lump in my throat, preventing me from swallowing?

"I-Casey called. I mean, she called Nora, explained everything." I said, stuttering.

"I know, but…" she paused thoughtfully and for a minute, I wasn't sure if she was going to continue. "But I think he would still like to hear from you." She said finally.

I sighed, my eyes closing again. "I know. I'll call him. I will. I just…have to…get a chance."

"Well, I'll get off with you right now so you can have that chance." She giggled. That little mischief-maker.

"Thanks, Smarti." I said, grinning. I could almost hear her wince. When she turned ten, the Smarti-Smerek nicknames kind of wore off. They occasionally still slipped out, of course, by both of us. But while I didn't have a problem with it, she did.

"You're welcome, Smerek." She retorted, her voice thick with disdain. I chuckled.

"Sorry, it slipped." I heard her mumble something when I noticed Casey walking out of the revolving door, dressed in much warmer clothing. "Look, I do have to go though, Casey's coming back and we're going to the aquarium."

"Ohh sounds like fun! Hurry home, though."

"I will." I said, nodding at Casey as she returned to her seat next to me.

"I love you, Derek. I'll see you soon."

"You too, Sm-" I started, only to be hushed by a loud 'ahem'. I chuckled again. "All right, all right. Love you, too, sweetie." I heard her groan at the equally unsettling pet name. "Talk to you later."

I put my hand on the key, which was in the ignition, ready to turn it.

"Who was that?" Casey asked me, angrily.

Wait, angrily?

I furrowed my brow, not looking up from the steering wheel. That's…interesting.

"What?" I asked, pretending to be dumbfounded. I looked up at her, noticing that she was staring at me. No, not staring. Glaring. What the hell?

"You heard me." She said, taking a deep breath and apparently claming herself down. I just kept looking at her, so she rolled her eyes and gave me a look that made me feel incredibly idiotic. "Who was that?" she repeated. "On the phone?" she clarified.

"Ma-" I paused. And then I did something completely on impulse. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, or why, but it did. "Megan."

I lied. For no reason. It just kind of slipped out. Do I even know a Megan? I mentally smacked myself over the head, hard.

"She's a friend, back in Wellington." I kept going. Why? Why was I doing this?

She made no response, not even a nod. But I thought I heard her say something under her breath using the words 'friends' and 'love'.

I kept my hands on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield. _What_ is going on?

"Are you going to drive?" she snapped, after I had sat there for a few minutes.

I looked at her quizzically. "Casey, did something happen while you were in there?"

Her eyes narrowed at me. "No." she said shortly, turning her fierce gaze away from me and out the window.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head slightly. "Well, do you still want to go?"

"Yes, Derek. I want to go." She replied. I couldn't tell if she was being serious or sarcastic.

Reluctantly, I put the car in drive and began to pull out of the parking lot. When she made no protest, I turned down the street in the direction I had been told to go in order to reach Sydney Aquarium. We arrived and entered, not speaking to one another. Her eyes still held their stern appearance and I tried my hardest to ignore it. We followed a group of people through the building, into some glass tunnels. It wasn't long before Casey started ohh-ing and ahh-ing at all the creatures under the water, swimming all around us. After about an hour and a half, we had toured the whole facility and were walking out together, getting along again.

"What do you want to do now?" she asked me.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket to look at my watch, which read 6:17. I shrugged, my mind running over all the possibilities of what we could do this late.

"Are you hungry?'

Truth be told, I was still kind of full from lunch, but I had a feeling it wouldn't last very long. So, I shrugged again, which she didn't like.

"Well, help me out a little bit here. I mean I've only planned out basically our entire day."

I cocked my head to the side. "I'm sorry, weren't you the one who _wanted_ to run around town all day and _wanted_ our whole day to be planned out? Not my fault you didn't think of what to do for dinner."

"You could at least help me think of something." She spat, obviously frustrated with my nonchalant behavior.

I sighed, racking my brain. "Umm…did you bring any nice clothes? We could find a nice restaurant to go to, and then maybe go to a show or something?"

"A show?"

"Yeah, at the opera house." I said, acting as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Or there's an IMAX here. Those are really cool. Have you ever been in one?" She shook her head. "Oh, then that's definitely what we should do."

She smiled. "Sounds great."

When we got back to the hotel, she announced she claimed the shower. I started to argue, but realized that she would probably take longer to get ready than I would, thus it was better if she went first.

"Didn't you already shower today?" I asked as we exited the elevator and walked down the hall to our room, pulling out my key.

"So? I've been running around all day. I need to freshen up, at least." She said, shrugging.

I smirked and went to put the card in the slot, only to find a piece of paper obstructing the way. I pulled it out and shoved it in my pocket.

"What was that?" Casey asked, following me into the room.

"Oh um, just a couple of coupons the maids left us, I guess." This whole lying to her thing was becoming a bad habit. Not that I'd never lied to her before, but I really tried to avoid it. Well, she bought it. Quietly, she gathered her stuff and went into the bathroom. When I heard her lock the door, I pulled the paper out of my pocket and read it.

_I get off at 6:30. Room 214?_

I grinned and glanced at my watch. _6:32_. Shit. I was late. I grabbed the key off the desk I had set it on and bolted out of the room, towards the elevator, pressing the down arrow several times even though I was only required to push it once. The ride down felt much longer than it actually was. I was silently figuring out how much time I had. I estimated that between the two showers she'd taken while we were here, Casey would take anywhere from fifteen to twenty minutes to shower, plus an additional ten minutes while she dressed and brushed her hair, did whatever it was she had to do. So that gave me at least twenty-five minutes, thirty-five if I wanted to push it.

I reached the door and knocked, running a hand coolly through my hair. It opened and a hand grabbed me, pulling me roughly inside. Lips crashed onto mine, forcing me against the freshly closed door. I returned the kisses with equal intensity, pushing myself off of the door and walking towards the king-sized bed in the room.

"You're…late…" Cassandra said bitterly in between kisses. She ran them down my neck and to my chest as she began unbuttoning my shirt. She gave me one kiss for every button she undid.

"I just got back and saw the note." I admitted, closing my eyes and reveling in the feeling of her familiar lips caressing my now bare skin. "I don't have long, my sister is in the shower and if I'm not back by the time she gets out, she'll get suspicious."

Cassandra's fingers had been working on my belt buckle. When she got it undone, she retraced her trail of kisses back up my stomach and chest to my mouth. I helped her shrug my shirt off of my shoulders, then pushed her back onto the bed. She bounced a time or two and I fell on top of her, our lips meeting again. I began to deftly unbutton her snow-white blouse, not parting from her mouth.

"Suspicious…of…what?" she managed to get out, breathlessly.

After she had slipped her own blouse from her shoulders, I began to trace the same path down her body as she'd done on me. When I reached her skirt, I paused, brushing my lips over her belly button as my hands made their way down her sides and to the zipper. It slid off easily and joined the growing pile, leaving her in a bra, panties, and nylon stockings.

"She just asks a lot of questions." I said truthfully, thinking about the phone incident earlier. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. I shouldn't be concentrating on my stepsister when I'm about to have sex with another woman. "Let's not talk about her anymore." I removed both of her stockings, slowly and tantalizingly, placing kisses on the insides of her thighs as I did so. I couldn't help but notice the strong smell of perfume. I liked it; it reminded me of the stuff Casey used to wear when we were in high school. I shook my head again. Stop thinking about Casey, damn it.

Sensing my frustrations, Cassandra pulled me up and stood with me. We kissed briefly before she shoved me hard down onto the bed. "How about you just shut up." She said, her fingers returning to their previous spot, only this time they were working on my jeans. She pulled them off quickly, my boxers following. My vision suddenly went cloudy and my eyes fluttered closed out of sheer pleasure. I've been with several girls, and honestly, not many of them had made me moan. Cassandra, however, did. Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing.

"Ohh God, Casey…"

Shit. Did I just…?

_Shit shit shit shit._

Cassandra stopped what she was doing and looked at me. All the pleasure that had been building up in my body suddenly left. I looked at her astonished, acting as if I had no idea as to why she had suddenly released me.

"Who the hell is Casey?" she snapped, and rightly so.

My mind raced trying to come up with a reason. Somehow, 'Sorry, I'd just really rather be banging my stepsister, so I moaned her name instead of yours' just doesn't sound like a very good excuse.

"I-It's you." I said, suddenly, not believing my own words. She apparently didn't either. "I thought Casey was kind of a good nick name or Cassandra. Do…do you not like it?"

She shook her head violently. "Are you daft? No. Casey, what a stupid name."

I opened my mouth, about to defend it, but stopped so she wouldn't be even more skeptical. Phew. Disaster, narrowly avoided.


	5. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

**Bah. Took me a while, but here it is. It's longer that normal. And there's finally a taste of Dasey in this chapter. Hope you like it. As ihartspied so graciously pointed out,** **he's no loner in denial. I guess, really, he was never in denial, just made the decision to casually not bring it up. Yes? The title is in reference to an Amy Winehouse song. She's pretty awesome. And, in case you didn't catch it, all of my titles have been song titles I stole, which reflect different points in said chapters...just a little random FYI. And the band, Travis, really is this _amazing_ Scottish band I had the pleasure of seeing live recently. Check them out if you get a chance.**

**For those of you who care, Angie is the baby from _Make You Smile_. A few people wrote me and asked me to write a sequel, which I'm working on. So, Angie is the product of George and Nora's marriage. I might include her more later, when they actually make it home, but I'm not huge on OCs, so we'll just have to see.  
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** Also, you may have noticed I changed the summary a bit. I'm hoping maybe more people will want to read it,then, maybe? Actually, LOTS of people have been reading it, just few people are reviewing. On that note, I have to thank my two very loyal readers, Zuzzeroo and ihartspied. Y'all are my favorites. :)**

**Oh, and just a warning, the end gets kind of...weird. Derek's all over the place. It's not written well, because...well it was really hard to write, for several reasons. I'm not a 26 year old guy and it's hard to get in the head of a normal one, much less a drunk one. Boys and girls are much different when inebriated.**

**I'll stop babbling now. Enjoy! Please review!  
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_Disclaimer: I claim Angie. Only Angie. And if I could, Mike. But I can't. So sad..._**  
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Minutes after my…situation, I found myself walking grumpily back towards the elevator, feeling very unsatisfied. I hadn't tied my shoes or even bothered to button my shirt except for once. Absently, I wondered if Casey would notice or if it would bother her. Realizing what I was thinking about, I shook my head. I'm sure she's seen plenty of bare-chested guys in her life; though theirs is probably not as nice as mine, why should she care? 

Yes, reader, I'm trying to gain her approval. Not only her approval, but her appreciation and maybe, hopefully, eventually her partiality towards me.

Oh, shut up and wipe that stupid grin off your face. Don't act like you just figured out a great mystery or like I'm suddenly happening upon this newfound love for her. I've known, for a very long time, might I add, and I've dropped you plenty of hints along the way. Just because I haven't ever acted on these apparent feelings does not mean they've been recently discovered. I know you were expecting it sooner or later, so let's just cut the crap and say we both knew all along, all right? Good. Seriously, she's a hot girl; I'm a hot guy…it totally should've happened **way** sooner. Oh, God, what am I, sixteen?

Okay, well now that it's all out in the open, I feel a bit better about facing her.

Okay, well maybe not.

But since we're on the subject, I think I'd like to throw out there that I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. Not entirely or not at all. It's wrong. Very, very wrong, even for a man of my standards. On top of that, I have a nice life back in Wellington. I love New Zealand. I can't say that I'm really willing to give that up for her, for now, any way, and I bet she'd say the same thing about her position. And Bangkok and New Zealand, though relatively close on a globe, are not a short distance from each other. Not that I'm at all thinking she'd be interested, I just think I know at least a little bit about Casey, and she wouldn't do that for anyone, especially her step brother whom she does not seem to care for all that much. I'm sure she is perfectly happy with her little friend Matt, who ever he is, and her Thai lifestyle.

Still, I can't help but think that this whole 815 thing must be some kind of sign. I mean really, meeting Boone and then the plane and then being stuck in Sydney…coincidence? I think not. Can't say that I've really seized the opportunity being alone with her, but can you blame me? How do you go about telling your step sister that you moved to a different country because you thought it'd make you get over her faster, only to find it made you want to see her more and more? Forget that. I'd have to be able to tell her how I felt about her first, and let's face it, it's never really been my strong point.

Well, I guess we did spend the whole day together, though. And I'm planning on taking her to a very nice restaurant for dinner. But honestly, if I told you I was anticipating anything coming out of this little vacation, or our relationship at all, I'd be lying through my teeth. Dinner, or no dinner, she's not going to declare some unresolved feelings for me, as I've been secretly hoping she'd do since before graduation, around the time Angie was born.

Ah, Angie. She's my little pride and joy. Or, I guess technically, she's Nora and Dad's pride and joy, but I love her all the same. She's almost young enough to be my own kid, anyway. Too bad I'm hardly ever there to see her. She's definitely my favorite half sister, not to mention the fact that she's my _only_ half sibling. Mind you, that's half, not step- Casey's totally my favorite stepsister. She'll be eight this year. It's funny when I think about it, but when Marti was about that age, she was completely and utterly terrified of having a little brother or sister. She even laughs about it now, but only because, despite their age difference of like nine years, Marti and Angie are probably the closest two people in our entire dysfunctional family. I can't imagine what it will be like when Angie finally becomes a teenager after all the things she's learned from Marti. She is going to be one little hellion.

I feel a bit sorry for Edwin, though. He was basically the only man in the house after Angie was born. Face it, we all know Nora has my Dad wrapped around her finger, and has ever since they got married. But that's beside the point. Luckily for my little brother, he only had to stay for three more years after Casey and I left for university, before he got to go himself. The difference between me and him, though? He stayed in London, where as I got as far away as I could…and stayed that far away, as you can tell.

"Where were you?" Casey's voice broke into my head. I looked around, startled. Apparently, I had been so lost in thought that I didn't even notice myself come back to the room. I hadn't even become aware of the fact that I had actually dug in my pocket, pulled out the key, slid it in and out of the lock, and opening the door right before I stuck it back in its slot in my wallet. See what she does to me? "Derek?"

"I, um…" I racked my brain quickly, thinking of a believable lie that didn't involve a very sexy redheaded woman. "I went to try and find a vending machine. I wanted a snack."

"We're about to eat dinner, I thought." I nodded, inwardly sighing from relief that she bought my story. "So, why are you eating?"

Realizing I was still standing in the doorway, I took a couple of steps forward, entering the room fully. "I guess I may have worked up an appetite." That was definitely part true.

"Oh." She nodded and turned back to face the vanity in front of her. Phew. Another disaster avoided. Thank goodness she didn't question my appearance. "And why are you like…half naked coming from the vending machine?" She asked sweetly, not looking at me. Damn. Spoke too soon.

Nonchalantly, I unbuttoned the only button holding my shirt together and tossed it in to my suitcase. "I was getting ready to jump in the shower right after you, but then I got hungry and I figured I shouldn't walk around with out a shirt, but I was too lazy to button it all the way so I only did one and I didn't want to tie my shoes, but figured I needed them and my belt…well I just didn't finished taking it off, but I was planning on it." Were there too many conjunctions for that to even be considered a sentence? I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She nodded slightly, still not turned towards me. "But now I'm back, and you're out, and I can have my turn." I smiled, but she still would not look. Silently, I gathered some clean clothes and walked into the bathroom. I barely had time to set them down and turn on the shower before she knocked.

"Yeah?" I called. Silence. "Casey?" I hollered again, straightening up and walking over to the door. I opened it slightly. She wasn't standing outside like I'd expected. "Did you want something?" I asked, looking over to where she sat. Still at that vanity, like she hadn't moved.

"Um, no. Why?"

"You knocked. Typically when people do that, they want something from the person on the other side of the door."

"No, I didn't." She looked at me like I was crazy. I returned the expression. We stared at each other, before I finally broke the gaze, rolling my eyes.

"Well, _someone_ knocked. And considering you're the only person in the room…"

"Derek, I didn't knock. Are you sure you're not hearing things?"

"I heard you knock three times on the door, Casey!"

"No, you didn't, because I didn't knock. I haven't gotten up!"

I gritted my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to walk over and slap her in the face. Fortunately, I restrained myself and slammed the bathroom door shut, eyeballing it carefully. I waited a few minutes for her to try and knock again. She didn't, and my hot water was being wasted, so I hopped into the shower.

When I came out, she had dried and fixed her hair. I toweled over my own hair, before tossing it to the floor and digging in my bag for some antiperspirant. I found it and sprayed it on the inside of my undershirt, shuddering slightly at the cold air on my skin.

"Derek?" I didn't say anything, but I looked at her. She was looking back at me. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine." I managed to croak out after a few seconds of stillness.

"Are you sure? I mean…maybe we should just order some room service, rent a movie on Pay-Per-View…?"

I watched her curiously. It was a good idea, honestly. I didn't want to go out and the food here was really good. Dinner and a movie in close quarters, alone, didn't sound like a bad idea.

But wait, wasn't it her who this morning jerked me out of bed so we could "explore"? _She_ was the one who wanted to not sit in the hotel. _She_ was the one who made plans for our entire day today and, more than likely, tomorrow too.

"No, damn it. We're going out. After you woke me up at 6:30 this morning, the least you can do is accompany me around this city."

"Hey," she said defensively, throwing up her hands indicating innocence. "I didn't wake you up on purpose. You used to be such a heavy sleeper."

"People change." I shrugged, referencing to Boone. "Now put on some nice clothes." I demanded, gesturing towards her sleeping shorts and t-shirt. She got up and mumbled something, searching through her luggage.

"I hope your idea of nice clothes consists of jeans and a cute top, because that's about as nice as I'm getting tonight."

Smirking, I checked myself out in the mirror, instinctively running a hand over my light blue dress shirt I was wearing, down to the dark grey jeans. "Sure. Only if you think you look good enough to go out with me." I turned to her, holding my arms out wide, as if willing her to take in my wonderful appearance. I tried to hide my grin of satisfaction as she did a double take. She noticed and grinned right back.

"Trust me. I'll look plenty good enough to be out with you," she shot at me smugly, then added, "not that it takes too much effort."

"'Not that it takes too much effort,'" I snapped back, mockingly. She took the hint and returned to finding herself clothes. I grabbed my bottle of gel and walked in to the bathroom, about to make an attempt at completing my outfit for the evening with my hair. Moments later, she was beside me, putting the finishing touches on her already perfect make up. I took the opportunity to take in her appearance, indifferently of course. The "cute top" she had chosen was loose to her form, but plunged almost dangerously low in the front. The cloth on her back was minimal, too, covering the very bottom of it. I could barely make out the outer rim of the bruise, which had been plastered in my brain. The shirt was one of those ones that tied behind her neck. Tank top? Half top? Halt top? Something like that…

Playfully, she ruffled my hair, messing up what I had accomplished and forcing me to tear my eyes away from the bottom of the slit, which - and in no way am I exaggerating - went as low as maybe four or five inches above her belly button. I narrowed my eyes at her and pushed her hand away, covering my head in a protective manner. She giggled.

"I always liked your long hair, you know." She said, admiring the mop I was currently trying to redo. "When it was short it made you look like you were twelve."

"Thanks." I replied sarcastically, not removing my eyes from my own reflection. I could tell she was looking at the same thing and it made me shift uncomfortably. She took notice and returned to dabbing mascara on her eyelashes. "I'm ready whenever you are." I said quietly, shifting past her through the door, careful not to touch her.

"Okay, I'll only be a couple more minutes." I snorted, loudly, and flopped down on the bed. "I swear." Sure, a couple of minutes, which actually means at least twenty.

I flipped through the channels, stopping it on a surfing competition. I've always wanted to learn how to surf. As you can imagine, it's not the biggest sport in Canada. Obviously that award belongs to hockey. And, well, hockey isn't too big in New Zealand either. Surfing, however, is. I just wish I had enough free time to pick up the sport and practice. I mean really, how hard could it be? Maybe I'd see if Casey wanted to go tomorrow. Granted, September wasn't exactly the best time to try and surf. It's comparable to our late March, when the weather still cool but starting to warm up. If I wanted to learn to surf here, I'd have to wait until December or January.

"All right, let's go." Casey said, slipping some dangly earrings in to her ears and checking her reflection one last time in the mirror. Not that she needed to. She looks good. No, _amazing_. She was right; she's more than good enough to be seen with me. I should compliment her.

"Um, all right." Damn it, Derek. Not a compliment.

We were already in the car and pulling out of the parking garage when we spoke again.

"Where are we eating?" she asked, looking at me quizzically.

I smiled. "I hope you like Mediterranean."

"Like…Italian, French-type Mediterranean?"

"No, like Greek, Egyptian-type. When I first got here, I passed this real ritzy Greek restaurant that I've been dying to check out, so here's my perfect opportunity."

"Ritzy? Are you sure we're dressed appropriately?"

I waved her off, shrugging. "No, but it doesn't matter. It's not like they're going to refuse to serve us or anything. Have you ever had Greek food?"

"I eat pitas all the time."

"Casey, pitas totally don't count. That's like saying because you've had pizza, you've eaten real Italian food."

"Eggplant?"

"Close, but no."

The inside was dark. All the furniture was black. The tables had tiny spotlights above them with candles flickering in the center, illuminating the tiny gold flakes, which were embedded in the granite.

"I _love_ this counter." Casey said admiringly, running her fingers over the smooth surface. She wasn't really talking to me, so I didn't respond and, I might be reaching by saying this, but I think she could have been mildly disappointed.

Our waitress – who, by the way, was incredibly good looking; I kept myself from hitting on her, out of respect for Casey – brought us a bottle of wine to share and asked if we were ready to order. Casey looked at the menu helplessly. I smirked and took the menu from her hands, much to her protest.

"We'd like to start out with a plate of feta and halumi, with your house sauce. And then we'd like the kufta kebabs, with some kibbeh soup. Light on the mint, please." She took our menus, smiling and saying she'd "get it right out". Casey gaped at me. "Close your mouth, flies might get in." I said, mockingly. She immediately obliged.

"How did you become such an expert on Greek cuisine?" she questioned, still staring at me.

"Not just Greek," I corrected her. "I'm quite the expert on all cuisine."

She smirked, sipping her wine. "Who would've thought…" It was more of a derisive statement, rather than a question.

I shrugged, taking a sip of mine as well. "People change." I retorted for the second time in a couple of hours.

We made small talk over dinner, which was completely mind blowing, in case you wanted to know; have I mentioned how much I _love_ food? No? Well, in that case. **I love food.** She told me about her suite mate, Cho, her dog, Cody, and her job as the curator at the National Museum of Thailand. I shared the same type of information about my cushy job at the Sweet Shop Film Production Company, and also telling stories about my best friend Peter, as I didn't have a roommate or any pets.

As much as I hate to admit it, I really enjoyed getting caught up in Casey's life. The past eight years, I've had no idea what she's been up to. I didn't even know she was a museum curator and she couldn't believe I worked for one of the most profitable advertising firms in the Eastern Hemisphere. We really should have kept in touch.

One thing that bugged me, though, was that she made no mention of the one called Matt she'd had such an interesting conversation with early this morning. I had to restrain myself, as I wanted to ask about him badly.

"So, what about Megan? Where does she fit in your perfect little life?" Casey asked as we walked down the sidewalk slowly.

Megan? Who's…oh. **Megan. **I involuntarily rolled my eyes. "My life is so not perfect, Casey; far from it, actually." She apparently took this into consideration, nodding. "Megan…is Peter's sister, so I very rarely see her, but since Pete and I are so close, I consider her like my sister, too. She's getting married in a few months, actually." That much was true, Pete did have a sister, whom I was close to. We happened to know each other's anatomy very well. And she was getting married. Her name wasn't Megan, though. Like I said before, this whole lying thing is becoming way too habitual.

"Oh, a sister, like me. That's sweet." Casey chirped, not looking at me.

And thank you God for that.

My eyes widened and my breath hitched in my chest. "Not…exactly." Came my throaty, response. Luckily, she didn't hear me. Or if she did, she definitely didn't take it the way I had meant it. I struggled to keep up with her pace. When did she start walking so fast? We walked in silence before I managed to get up the guts to ask what had been on my mind all day.

"And who is _Matthew_?" I couldn't help but sound a little bitter when I said his name, even though I tried to hide it. Casey seemed to be equally bad at hiding her feelings, as she tensed up as soon as I said the name. "Case?"

"Don't call me that." She snapped, not bothering to look up at me. "Can…can we not talk about him right now, Derek?"

I furrowed my brow, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. No, damn it. I told you about Megan, even if she was fake, and that there was nothing going on. Now you're supposed to do the same thing with Matt. Except, I already know he's real. But you can still assure me that there's nothing between you two. Come on! Get with it, Casey!

"Okay." I relented quietly. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Her voice was cynical. "You didn't know."

"Yeah, I know…but still…" Oh, great Derek. Apologizing for another man's mistakes, a man you don't even know, no doubt. What has become of you, you pathetic slob? "Whatever's happening with this Matt guy…sorry."

Casey smiled mournfully, linking her arm with mine and giving it a firm squeeze. "Thanks. You really have no idea how good it is to hear you say that." And then, when I expected her to pull away, she kept herself attached to me. That can only mean one thing…

I'm getting _**somewhere**_. The only question is: where? Because if the answer has to do with a sibling type relationship, I'm not too sure I can handle it, thanks. I mean really, is she that oblivious that she honestly has no idea that I have some not-so-brotherly feelings for her?

Loud cheering and the sudden strum of guitars interrupted my line of thought. I looked up and noticed we were passing by a large club. Casey stopped, pulling me with her.

"What's up?" I asked, referencing to her sudden change in demeanor.

She didn't answer, listening thoughtfully to the music being played.

"Casey?" I asked again, annoyance in my voice.

"Travis!" she exclaimed, taking my hand and pulling me inside the open-air building.

"Travis?" I didn't heard her response as the music became much louder. Paying the doorman a cover charge, I peered around at the stage, not recognizing the band that was playing. Casey was already far inside, not bothering to contain her excitement. I leaned closer to her, having to yell for her to be able to hear me. "Who is this?"

"Travis!" came her barely audible reply. "Only the greatest Scottish band in the world." She added, silently reprimanding me for not knowing who they were. I listened, vaguely recognizing the song currently being played.

"Do you want something to drink?" I motioned to the bar. She shook her head, so I went and retrieved one for myself. I figured I would need it. And probably one or two more.

I stayed close to the bar and, after a few songs, Casey joined me, ordering a peachtini. Such a girl drink. "I guess this means we're not going to the IMAX?" I asked, happy to be able to speak in a relatively quieter voice. She looked at me apologetically.

"Oh, I kind of forgot about that. You don't mind, do you?"

I thought momentarily, considering what I was about to do. Give in. To Casey. With out argument. With a deep breath, I finally managed to say it. "Nah. It's okay, we can stay here if you want."

"Oh, yay! Thanks!" She smiled at me thankfully and sipped on her drink, not thinking twice about how difficult that was for me. Really, Casey, you should have picked up on something by now.

Some chitchat, three more of my favorite beers, and a few songs later, she suddenly grabbed my arm tightly. "Oh, this is my favorite song!" she squealed, her grip tightening as she jumped up and down a couple of times. "Dance with me, Derek!"

"What? No." I replied immediately, no second thoughts. What an absurd idea. Me? Dance? HA. I'd have to have a lot more to drink.

"Come on." She begged, setting her cup on the table we were standing near and attempting to rid my hand of the pesky beer bottle it was holding. I didn't release it.

"Casey…" I warned, holding my bottle out of reach.

"Derek…" she said mockingly. "Please? It's my favorite song." She drawled. Oh, God, I hope she doesn't make that face. No, _she's making that face_. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!

"Well, it's not mine!" I declared petulantly, sounding like a five year old. Sheesh, when did I get so whiney? "I don't want to dance, much less with you." For added effect, I wrinkled my nose at her. She simply smirked. "You just want to because you're drunk and you don't know how to control yourself."

"Oh, _I'm_ drunk? All I've had to drink was that one glass of wine at dinner and half of this here." She said matter-of-factly, picking her cup up again. "_You_ on the other hand have had four beers, plus two glasses of wine. And you have the audacity to say that I've had too much?"

"I don't know what that means," I said, blinking twice. My mind registered that maybe she was right. Unfortunately, alcohol has this way of twisting logic and loosening your inhibitions, and telling her that she was right didn't sound like a good thing to do to me. "But you looked sexy when you said it. Do it again." I said huskily.

_Oh shiiiiit._

Casey's eyebrows shot up a good inch, but my face held its characteristic smirk. "Come on." I pleaded, unintentionally imitating her. She shook her head and set her glass down, reaching for my bottle again. This time, she was too quick for me and she managed to take it. "Heeeey." I indistinctly thought it was probably for the best, my head was starting to feel heavy.

"Oh, hush. We should leave, Derek."

"No, we should stay, Casey. You said you wanted to stay. Let's stay if you want."

"Their set is almost over anyway. We can leave and beat the crowd." She reasoned. I didn't have the mind to argue. I coolly draped my arm around her shoulders and we left the club. She removed my arm and went to hail a cab.

"We have a car, Spasey. We can drive. I can drive. Let's drive." I started walking. But she grabbed me.

"First of all, the car is that way." She pointed and I tried to take off, only to be stayed by her hand. "And we've both been drinking, we can get the car tomorrow. You especially don't need to drive." Once again, I didn't argue. She let me go and I twirled in a couple of circles, my arms held out, reveling in the unknown sensation which felt vaguely similar to what I imagined flying would be like. Unexpectedly my hand caught on something and I stopped abruptly, not wanting to rip my own arm off. I noticed Casey's arm extended towards me, realizing it was her hand that had stopped me. She pulled me over to the curb and pushed me into the taxi.

The trip back to the hotel was very short, but I think I remember hitting on Casey again, only to be shot down. Damn girl. Such a tease. I think I remember telling her that, too. And I think I remember her hitting me afterwards. She hits like a girl. Ooh, she is a girl. That makes me giggle. Wait, since when do I giggle? Oh, I giggle when I get kissed _there_. Who knew she was such a good kisser? What's she doing? Giving me a hickey? Sexy. Except I should be the one giving it to her. Oh, wow, her hands feel good.

"Will you still love me tomorrow?" I whispered involuntarily. Casey stopped her administrations.

The next thing I knew, she was removing my jacket from my shoulders and was pulling me towards the bed. Should I take that as a yes to the question I hadn't meant to ask? I laid myself down, expecting her to follow. She didn't. In this new position, I found my eyelids suddenly heavy.

"Good night, Derek." She said, turning off the light.

Though my body was protesting, something in the back of my not-so-sober brain told me not to disagree…again. Man, I was tired. Kissing took energy I was too lazy to expend right now. Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy…

"Night, Spasey."


	6. Stay

**I know, I know. I am the worst person _ever_. It's been over a month since I last updated. But please, give me a break. I just moved and am getting adjusted. I've found that my new room is not very good for inspiration (which, honestly, is not going to be good when I wind up having to write for school) and finally, tonight, I was able to get out and find some place that was good to write. Thankfully, I found it. So hopefully, updates will come more often? We'll see. I'm a pretty busy bee.**

**Just to clear up some possible confusion, this story takes place when Casey and Derek are 26, not during the show. Sorry if I didn't make that clear before, I thought I had. And I'm sorry about the cheese factor in this chapter (i.e. Jerry Springer & Cruel Intentions references). It was inevitable. I think for most Dasey fics, it's bound to happen sooner or later. **

**Anyway, all that said, I think you'll like this chapter. FULL of Dasey, particularly the ending. **

**Also, soon I hope to post this other story I'm currently tweaking (not that I should really be writing anything else). It's a very angsty Dasey, called _Does He Love You?_ It's a two shot songfic and so far it's not too incredibly long. So please, check it out if I finally do get it up. **

**Well I hope you guys enjoy this! Please read and review! I love reviews.  
**

_Disclaimer: Do I really need to keep reminding myself that I don't own these characters?_

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_As we trudge along through the mud  
And we tried to call it home  
But we weren't all right, not at all  
Not for one, for—_

"Mmm…hello?" I groaned into the speaker of my cell phone, still mostly asleep. The ringing had simply been incorporated into my dream, but the vibrating that came from my pocket caused me to wake up enough to answer it. I didn't recognize the ring tone right away.

"Hey, Derek. Were you sleeping? Sorry, I don't even know what time it is there."

I shot up in bed, my eyes opening fully. "Dad!" I replied in a surprised tone. This was the conversation I'd been dreading – the "I-told-you-so" lecture. I racked my brain, trying to think of anything I could say to end it before it got started; my phone was about to die, I was hung over, I had bad reception. Unfortunately, I didn't have to guts to use any of these excuses.

Apparently, and thankfully, he didn't seem to want to have it either. "I bet it's really early there." He said as if he hadn't heard me. "Like the middle of the night even. I can just, you know, call back later."

"No, Dad." I said, interrupting him as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "It's all right. What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, but once he started, he rambled for a good five minutes, telling me about the airline – who had called him, by the way, and not me like they were supposed to – and what they were going to do to fix our problem. While he spoke, I took the opportunity to leave the darkness of our room and venture into the bathroom, noting Casey's sleeping form in her bed as I did so. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, keeping the light off.

"So, I can book you a flight back to Wellington and Casey one back to Bangkok, or…" I heard him swallow when he hesitated. "Well, I guess I can do that, I just need to know times."

"I'm sorry, Dad." I said, not listening to his last sentence. There was silence on the other end of the line. "I wish we could've been there, really."

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault." He replied quietly after a painfully still moment.

"Well, yeah it kind of is. If we had just come last week like you guys asked us to, we'd be stuck in Canada, not in Australia. At least we know our way around London." I joked and smiled when I heard him laugh.

He paused again before answering. "Don't worry about it. I know you would have been here if you could have. Now, about this flight…"

"Hey, Dad?" I interrupted him. "What if you just book us one later today to Victoria, so we can catch the train to London, like we planned? We could be there late tomorrow."

He was quiet for a moment and I could tell he was itching to say okay, but he still argued. "But you guys probably need to get back to work, they're always so strict on both of you. And they already let you guys off, and—"

"They'll get over it. I'm sure Casey deserves the vacation hours and I know I sure as hell do, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We need the break and what better way to spend it?"

"Partying in Sydney?" he said jokingly.

"I think we've done plenty of that, honestly. Make the flight for sometime tonight, I'm going to go back to bed. I'll call you later, 'kay?"

"Okay, I will. Goodnight."

"I'll talk to you later." I was about to hit the end button, but he stopped me.

"Hey, Derek?"

"What's up?"

"Thanks."

I blinked a few times, not completely registering what he said. "Uhh…sure, no problem. I'll call you in a few hours." I finally snapped the phone shut and raised my head. I jumped slightly when I saw Casey form outlined in the doorway. I hadn't even heard her come in. "Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me." I said softly, clutching my chest involuntarily.

"Good morning to you, too." She retorted sarcastically, sauntering over and sitting beside me. Even in the darkness I saw her shiver from the coldness caused by the tile. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine." I replied, a bit confused.

"No headaches, dizziness, or the urge to puke on me?"

I winced outwardly and looked away from her as realization hit me. "Uhh…no, I didn't have _that_ much to drink, Case." I felt her stiffen next to me. "Sorry!" I said quickly. "Old habits die hard." I added, almost inaudibly.

"I beg to differ." She teased. Surprised, I looked back at her. "I think you had quite a bit to drink."

I thought for a moment, confused, and then suddenly had a sharp intake of breath as I remembered.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked again. I nodded. "No urges to tell me how _sexy_ I am?" She was noticeably closer to me, now, her breath tingling on my ear.

"I, uh, don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." One of her hands was on my arm, the other was in my hair, her fingers combing through it tantalizingly.

I reveled in her touch for a moment, my mind racing. I'm torn here, people.

On one hand, I have my incredibly beautiful stepsister who is blatantly flirting with me. I mean, that's what I would call it, wouldn't you? She's pretty much all over me and oh, God, does it feel nice. And her voice sounds so inviting, like I should just jump her, right here and now.

On the other hand, _she's my fucking stepsister_. I know that we're technically not related or whatever, but it's still very morally wrong. I'm pretty sure we've already discussed this, haven't we? I don't have very high standards, but it's so very Jerry Springer; or very Cruel Intentions, if you will. We couldn't tell anyone, ever. And what's the point of having a relationship if you can't be open about it?

Well, on the other hand, she doesn't even seem to be having any second thoughts. She's acting like she wants to…well, you know. And I'm not going to lie and say that I don't. **I do.** I've very obviously wanted to for an incredibly long time.

But, on the other hand, we're going home later today and then nothing could happen between us, _especially_ while we we're there. Besides, we live in separate countries, on separate continents; that's a little bit of a downside. This would turn out to be a one-night stand type thing – or, to be technical, a one-morning stand – and, granted I've had plenty of those in my life time, if things were going to happen with Casey that was not how I wanted them to play out.

Before I have a chance to become a bigger mutant and grow another hand, her lips are on mine and we're standing. My hands began toying with the waste band of her sleeping shorts and they soon found their way to the bathroom floor. At the same time, her fingers were working deftly on the buttons of the smoke scented shirt I had put on to go out with her hours before. I shrugged it from my shoulders, leaving me in my undershirt and jeans. She broke the kiss and moved out of the bathroom, to her bed. I followed and found her sitting on it. Smirking, she pulled the tie out of her hair and shook her head, letting it flow over her shoulders sexily. As cheesy of a move as it was, it was exactly what I needed to push all reservations to the back of my mind. I soon attached our lips again, pushing her back on the bed until she was laying on it and I hovered over her. My mouth traveled down her neck and chest. I toyed with the bottom of the tank top she was wearing, causing it to raise a few inches and covering her stomach in feather light kisses. Eventually, I reached the hem of her panties, where an unfamiliar sight was barely peeking out from under the material. I pulled at the fabric to get a better look; it was a small tattoo of a star with a heart in the center. I looked up at her questioningly. A tattoo was not something the Casey I knew would have.

"People change." she replied, smirking down at me.

I'm not sure what about her words made me realize what we were doing; perhaps her inadvertent reference to Boone had caused me to stop. Whatever it was, I sat back on the floor and Casey rose up off the bed to look at me.

"Is there something wrong with my having a tattoo?" I shook my head. "Well, then, if you don't mind me asking, what the hell is your problem?"

I looked up at her crossly. "What's my problem? You're my stepsister! That's my problem! This should not be happening." I shook my head and looked away from her.

She pulled her shirt down and crossed her arms across her chest protectively. "You act like I don't know that."

"No, see, " I started, standing up and pointing an accusatory finger at her. "I know you know that, and that's why it bothers me so much. I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but I was definitely not ready for all these apparent changes you've made in your life. Like, since when do you find tattoos attractive? For that matter, since when do you find _me_ attractive?!"

She shifted her eyes away from mine, but they still held their intensity. She looked back at me. "Why does it matter to you?"

I paced for a moment, thinking about this. Why _did_ it matter to me? I'd found her appealing since she moved into my house when we were fifteen, and I'd wanted to do all the things we were moving towards since around the same time, so why was I stopping it? Here I am, twenty-six years old, and still fascinated by my high school crush. I'm not sure if that qualifies me for the loser category or not, but regardless, I finally have her where I've wanted her for so long and I can't go through with it. Well, I could definitely think of one thing that would help clear my mind. I sat next to her on the bed, drawing my knee across so my body was facing her. "Who is Matt?" She dropped her arms, burying her face in her hands. "Come on, Casey. I've got to know. It'll straighten so many things out for me."

She remained silent, but turned her body so her position was mirroring mine. "He's my boyfriend." I felt my face fall when she began talking. She noticed and quickly recovered. "Well, technically. I consider him my ex, but we haven't actually broken up."

"So, why don't you like to talk about him?"

"He's stubborn, and a little possessive, but he really doesn't mean to be I don't think."

"Does he hurt you?" I said, my body tensing as I prepared myself for the answer. Gauging from the bruise I saw yesterday, I had an idea of what she would say.

"No, not on purpose."

"On purpose?" I relaxed a little bit, but not completely. "Casey, how could you get yourself into this kind of relationship? You're so much smarter than that."

She glared at me. "You don't know what kind of relationship I'm in. Don't act like you do. He's not abusive, I just said that."

"What about your back?"

She stood up, obviously frustrated and threw her hands up in the air. "I thought we already talked about that."

"You lied."

"Okay, fine, he gave me that bruise, " she started, defeated. When I opened my mouth to prove my point, she interjected. "But he didn't mean to. It was kind of my fault anyway."

"I suppose he tripped you while you were running at five in the morning and you shouldn't have been." Her eyes narrowed. "All right, then do explain. I'm all ears."

"I don't have to explain anything to you."

I sighed and stood up. I reached out to touch her cheek in an attempt to console her, but recoiled my hand when I realized what I was doing. Instead, I opted for her shoulder. It somehow seemed less threatening and more brotherly. "I know, but will you, please? I want to know."

"I really don't think you want to know how he gave me this."

"Casey…" I groaned, falling backwards on the bed.

"Okay, all right." She sat down next to me again, but she wouldn't look at me. When I sat up, she focused on the floor. "We were arguing one day and…" She inhaled deeply and I could tell she didn't want to continue.

"And?" I pressed, trying to make her eyes meet mine. They wouldn't.

"And it reminded me of this conversation I had a really long time ago…with you…after that, things got a little…heated, to say the least. We were in the kitchen and…well, the bar is about half my height. You do the math."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. As much as I hated to hear that her "ex" boyfriend had given her a bruise while they were having _relations_ – or hearing about such _relations_ she had with anyone, for that matter – it was a bit reconciliatory that the thing that had started these _relations_ was none other than myself.

"I told you that you didn't want to know." She was about to stand up when I grabbed her arm, staying her.

"Oh, on the contrary…" I trailed off, bringing my hands up to her face and pulling it to mine, kissing her softly. It began to get intense and I pulled back before it got too far, another question plaguing my mind. "So, why do you all of a sudden flip out when I call you Case?"

"I don't flip out!" She cried defensively.

"Well, you most certainly don't like it."

She sighed, licking her lips tentatively. "It's not that I don't like it. I just…that's what Matt calls me and I don't really like thinking about him any more than I already do."

I scrunched my face in confusion. From what she had been telling me so far, this Matt character didn't seem like a bad guy.

"But, then…what happened before you got here that made you dislike him so much? He doesn't sound so terrible."

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately. Her face contorted in what I could only imagine as pain.

"Tell me, please?"

"The day before I flew to Sydney, I um…I caught him with one of my good friends, who had um, 'just stopped by to drop off some stuff'. A likely story, right?" My face fell and I had the sudden urge to hold her close, tell her she deserved someone better. Someone who would treat her right, not cheat on her, be there for her. But I didn't hold her, or tell her those things, and she continued. "I don't know, we didn't really get that much of a chance to talk about it since I had to leave, but from what I can tell, it definitely wasn't the first time she'd come over. And I, being the completely brilliant woman that I am, was utterly oblivious to it the entire time." Her eyes began to water and she blinked back tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this, I'm just still a little emotional."

I rolled my eyes, holding back a scoff. _A little emotional? Ha._ I remained quiet, contemplating what she told me, when a sudden unpleasant detail stuck out to me. "So, what's this?" I asked bitterly, gesturing between us. "A rebound?"

"What? No! Derek…"

"Well, that's what you're suggesting. You're emotionally instable, so you're going to use me to make yourself feel better and wanted or something?"

"That's not what I'm doing. Derek, you're not listening to me."

"No, I am. I heard what you said." I replied, perhaps a bit angrier than I should have, and stood up. "Casey…" I sighed, searching for some shoes. "Look, you're hurting or whatever, and I'm sorry. That sucks and no one, especially you, deserves to be treated like that. Obviously, I care about you; if you don't know that by now, you're not quite as smart as I thought. Still, I respect myself way too much to let you use me as some recovery tool." I started towards the door, but she ran after me and grabbed my shirt in order to stop me.

"It's not like that. You can't honestly think I would do that to you." I searched her eyes for some sign of deceit, but I couldn't find any. Reluctantly, I turned away from the door and crossed my arms across my chest, a silent sign telling her I was willing to hear her out.

"I know you care about me, I do. And, I guess if you want me to be completely honest, I kind of used that to my advantage because I knew that after spending a few days alone, you could help me forget about Matthew." I shifted uncomfortably and began to turn back to the door. She hadn't flat out said it, but she _had_ been using me the past couple of days. "Wait!" She cried desperately. I sighed and stopped again. "I know it was the wrong thing to do. I'm sorry. I mean, at first I figured you were going to be the same old Derek, you know? You were going to treat me the way that you treated me when we were teenagers and then I'd wind up being mad at you, not him. I guess I didn't count on the fact that we're _both_ adults now and that even you, of all people, can mature. And you were just being so…so perfect, I couldn't help it. I like the way I feel when I'm around you, Derek. So sue me."

We stared at each other for a few excruciating moments, neither of us daring to speak. I was completely at a loss for words. I think she was too scared to say anything else because of my lack of a response to her declaration. Honestly, what was I supposed to say? I mean, I had been hoping words close to those would come out of her mouth for nearly eleven years, but I'd never actually thought of a response to them. Hell, I never imagined in a million years she would say them. How do I reply to that?

I opened my mouth to finally relieve the tension when she apparently decided words were not going to be adequate enough for us to continue. Out of desperation or who knows what else, I was suddenly forced hard against the door I had been so eager to exit minutes before. Lips crashed and hands roamed. With much determination and a bit of a struggle, we managed to make our way back to my bed without actually detaching from each other. I honestly had no idea Casey was so incredibly skillful when it came to foreplay. She was nipping and sucking and licking and kissing in all the right places. Her evidently experienced hands groped and rubbed and stroked my skin so well through the thin layer of fabric that it was almost torturous. Eventually, I had my turn on her, and what little clothes we were still wearing found their way to the hotel room floor.


	7. Dreaming With A Broken Heart

**Well, needless to say, I'm discouraged by the lack of response I'm receiving. I wrote this anyway, but I'm considering just quitting this story. Apologies to readers of _Does He Love You?_ because I said I'd get Part Two up quickly, but I'm having doubts about it, too. More than likely it'll be concluded tomorrow, as I have a huge exam to study for as well as an essay to write for said exam. Sorry for the delay. Anyway, enjoy this. Review and such? Yeah, right...  
**

**Also, I added a little author's note to Chapter One. You can read it if you want.**

* * *

I had no idea what time it was when I woke up. But through squinting eyes, I noticed the sun had risen and the bed next to me was made up. Briefly, I wondered where Casey could have gone off to. Then I remembered what happened merely hours before and why she wouldn't have needed to sleep in her bed. 

I, Derek Michael Venturi, slept with my stepsister. We had sex. We made love. We had a romp. We went all the way. We had relations. I don't know what else to call it, but frankly, I don't care.

I am a very happy and satisfied man.

Assuming the warmth radiating about me is coming from another body, I rolled over to face her. Imagine my surprise when she wasn't there. I was momentarily confused, sitting up in bed. The bathroom door was open, indicating she wasn't in there. I pulled the sheets back and stood up. Quickly finding my boxers, I slid them on and that was when I noticed Casey's pajamas she had been wearing earlier were missing. In fact, as I looked in the corner of the room, her entire suitcase was gone.

Casey MacDonald ditched me the morning after.

What's worse is that she doesn't even have anywhere to go, and she still left.

I sighed, slumping down on my bed, feeling defeated. Honestly, if it weren't for this whole broken hearted sensation, I would be impressed. She pulled a Derek. And now I know how every single girl I've ever left feels. For a moment, I don't believe it, so I pinch my arm. To my disappointment, it hurts and I'm left sitting there crushed and frustrated. All I can think is…why? Why would she just leave? And what did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?

Don't answer that last question.

But honestly, what happened in that crazy, messed up brain of hers that she would suddenly have such a change of heart and would go from wanting to be with me to wanting to get out?

I will never understand her. Never ever ever ever ever!

As I'm groaning, rolling around on my bed aggravated, I have an epiphany, and bolt into the bathroom. I find my cell phone discarded on the tile floor. Sullenly, I curse the reason that it was left there and flip it open, scanning through my contacts quickly. As many times as I've looked at it, debating with myself about whether or not to call it, I should have the number memorized. But some how, I don't, and when I reach Casey's name, I push the send button without a bit a hesitation. I mean, I think I deserve an explanation, don't you?

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ring._

And then I get that oh so discouraging click. You know, the one that is just barely audible, but you can still hear it if you're listening close enough. The one that says your call just got rejected, that the person on the other end of that line is screening their phone and they don't want to speak with you. **That** is the click I heard, followed by her ever-so-cheerful, perky, upbeat, and brashly high-pitched voice.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little bitter.

Feeling rather annoyed, I stomp out of the bathroom. I probably looked like an idiot, storming around our hotel suite in my underwear. But there was no one around to see, thankfully. Or…not. UGH!!

With my last bit of desperation, I look in the direction of my luggage. Maybe, just maybe, she packed all of our stuff and put it in the rental car to get ready for our departure. I mean, she heard me on the phone with my dad, right? And it is just like Casey to want to be prepared, even if we aren't leaving right away. All my hopes fade away when I spot my red suitcase and old black hockey bag across the room.

"_I like the way I feel when I'm around you, Derek. So sue me."_

A likely story, indeed. How could you have been such an idiot, Derek? She was way too quick to say no when I accused her of using me. And how about the way she was all over me? And the tattoo? And all that talk? Casey MacDonald would never say or do those things. And since when did she become so experienced in the…sleeping department?

Okay, calm down, Derek. You did kind of move away and _ignore_ her for eight years.

It was her own fault; she didn't have to be so God damned tempting.

Yeah, and you didn't have to be such a colossal jackass.

I didn't even do anything! She was the one who said all those things last night and then left me here!

But how many promises have you made her? How many things have you said to her you didn't really mean?

So, what, are you saying that she did this to get me back for our three years spent under the same roof? She lied about feeling certain things and then slept with me because she's still upset about something that happened when we were _teenagers_?

It's certainly a possibility.

"Get a grip, Derek." I said out loud. "You're mentally arguing with yourself. That's got to be some sign of insanity." I ran a tired hand through my hair, realization dawning on me. "And now you're talking to yourself in third person. Nice."

My stomach rumbling broke me out of my egocentric thoughts and I decided it would be best to get some food in there before I went completely berserk from low blood sugar. Quickly cleaning up, I walked down to the pool hall I had been at a few nights before, remembering there was a café next door.

After ordering some coffee and a glass of orange juice, my waitress left me alone with my menu. I was intently studying the words, trying frantically to get Casey off my mind. I hardly noticed when the booth across from me dipped as someone sat down.

"So, are you going to keep staring at the menu all morning or engage in a conversation?"

The voice sounded familiar, although I couldn't place where I knew it from. I lowered the paper slightly so that only my eyes were visible. However, it soon after found its way flat on the tabletop.

"Holy shit, man." I said, my breath catching in my chest. "I didn't know they found your plane!" I held my hand out to Boone and he shook it, an odd expression painted on his face.

"They didn't." he said, more to himself than to me, although I heard.

"Wait, what?"

"Long story." He finished, staring at his hands. I took this opportunity to study him. He was kind of sweaty and dirty, in jeans and a simple white under shirt that looked like it hadn't been washed in a couple of days. His hair was matted and sticking to his skin. He seemed different than the forthcoming, upbeat guy I'd met in a bar days before, and not just because of his appearance. I suppose he sensed what I was thinking and interrupted me.

"Dude, is every—"

"Yes, yep. They're awesome. That's a long story, too. But how are you doing, my fine sir? I have a feeling you need some help."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, trying my best not to sound resentful.

"Trust me, I wouldn't be here if you didn't." He replied, almost the same sound in his voice. "What's up?"

I looked at him carefully, although I wasn't really looking _at_ him. More so, I was looking in his direction while silent arguing with myself in my head again; debating over whether or not to tell him.

"Casey and I slept together." I blurt out suddenly. Even if I had wanted to stop it, I wouldn't have been able to. Boone's eyebrows rise slightly and he nods as if he is not surprised.

"I figured it would have something to do with that." He admitted.

"You did? How?"

"The way you were talking the other night; you had tons of built up tension and resentment towards your stepsister. Typically, it's released through physical means and you don't really seem like a violent guy, thus leaving room for only one other option."

I gawk at him, a baffled look on my face. _What?_

"My dad was a psychologist." He answers my unspoken question. "It's where we got all of our money.

"Ah." Is my only response as I look interestedly at the table. Look at all those tiny little grains in this fake wood.

"So, how was it?" My gaze immediately jerks back up to him and he shifts uncomfortably. "I don't mean it like that. I mean…how do you feel now that you have? How does Casey feel?"

"I'd ask her if I could." I mutter, but her hears me.

"Is she not the talking type?"

"She left." My voice was just as quiet and apparently this time he had some difficulty hearing.

"What?"

"She, um, wasn't there…when I woke up…you know?"

I can't tell you what I was expecting from him; perhaps an "I'm sorry", or a solid shake of the hand, a pat on the back. But none of these was his reaction. He actually smiled. Yeah, a big, toothy grin, like he was the happiest dope in the world.

Okay, that's not exactly true. It was more like a semi-half-little-tiny-bit-quarter-of-a-smile. But he still smiled.

"You think it's funny?" I asked, my voice harsher than I intended. But actually, no. That's exactly how I wanted it to sound.

"No, no. It's not that." His smile faded and I anticipated that he would continue. He didn't.

"Well, then what is it?"

He was silent for a moment before that smile crept slowly back on to his face. "What do _you_ think about it?"

"I have **no** idea!" I say, grabbing fistfuls of hair and banging my head on the table. "I don't understand why she would want to leave or what would change her mind about the things she said or—"

"No, Derek. What do you think about having sex with your stepsister?"

I raise my head at this question, a bit surprised at his bluntness about the situation. I subconsciously glance around to see if anyone's staring at our incestuous table. Thankfully, they're not.

"I, uh—" I started, not sure how to answer. In all honesty, I felt a little bit dirty. As far as society was concerned, we committed incest. Dad and Nora would _never_ approve. I mean, not that we would really need their approval, right? We are, after all, two grown adults. We each have our own lives, make our own income, are totally capable of supporting ourselves. But I guess it would make holidays a tad bit awkward.

And also, what's up with Casey's sudden disregard for all things…Casey-like? Rules, organization, prudishness, structure, morals…where did all of that go? The Casey I left in London eight years ago was Little Miss Perfect, Virgin Mary, Straight A, Neat As A Pin, etcetera; every cliché you can come up with. She _hated_ me. And, yeah, we were getting along the last year or so we lived together. We were pretty unstoppable when we worked together. But that didn't change the fact that we both felt like the other was invading our space. She irritated me from the day I met her, months before the wedding, all the way up until the week before graduation. That was when it really started to change, for me, at least; my perspective on things, that is.

But Casey? Things didn't change for Casey, not that I could tell, anyway. Obviously, they've changed now, though.

Anyway, besides feeling dirty, I feel…well, I feel happy. For the first time in a long time, I'm genuinely happy. Or, at least I was, for about fifteen seconds when I woke up this morning. Now, I'm left feeling slightly depressed and, dare I say it, heart broken. All right, so maybe that specific truism is a tad extreme. It's the best I can come up with, though, for this feeling I'm having. Perhaps a better word would be rejection? Because I'm definitely feeling some of that. It's incredibly unfamiliar and I don't know how to deal with it. What's a popular, good-looking boy to do?

Furthermore, there's the ever-pressing question of: where does this _relationship_ go from here? Judging by Casey's reaction from this morning, I'm going to assume no where, which means precisely what I wanted not to happen – a one night stand – did, in fact, happen.

I also find myself considering the _other _option: what if she _hadn't_ left and there was a need for the "where does this go from here?" question? What would we do then? I've been over this before, but for some odd reason, I feel a need to redo it in my head. Casey lives in Thailand. I live in New Zealand. We love our jobs. We love where we live. We're happy, right? Why fix something that's not broken?

My eyes meet Boone's and I'm suddenly reminded of the question he asked. I struggle for a way to put all of my thoughts into a sentence.

"I understand." He interrupts, before I have a chance to answer.

"I don't know that you do. I don't know that I do." I shake my head, disbelievingly.

"Trust me." He says for the second time. "I do, more than you can comprehend."

We're both quiet again for what seems like an eternity. My mind is churning out idea after idea, and yet none of them seem right to say out loud.

"Look, man," Boone starts finally, breaking the silence. "Here's my take. You have sex with Casey, whom you've liked as more than a stepsister since you lived together. And you're not only freaked out about what you think, but you're freaked out about what you think she's thinking, okay? And this," he used his hand to gesture between us and point around the café, "this is your subconscious manifestation of that fear."

"Subconscious manifestation? I didn't just imagine her being gone, Boone. Her stuff was missing while mine was still there. She wasn't in bed with me. It was like she'd never even been in the room in the first place." I argued. I was starting to think that Boone's expertise in this matter was failing.

"Yeah, well, no, not really. I—"

"What?" It was my turn to interrupt him now, as I was very confused.

"Just, hear me out, okay?" I nod, so he continues. "You are worried because Casey's changed, right? You don't know what is going to happen when you talk about your little incident and thus, you're imagining that it's just not going to happen, when in fact, you really want it to happen because it could possibly, and will probably, lead to something more, something much better than what the two of you just shared."

"O…kay?"

"Casey being gone represents the unknown, you can't find her even though you tried calling, looking, etcetera, right?"

"Right."

"It's the same as not knowing something; say, the person who is going to sit in front of you on a plane."

"What?"

"You can tell me that Casey is gone, but you can't tell me where, why, how. With a plane, by looking at your seat, you can easily figure out what number will be in front of you, but you can't tell me anything about that person sitting there, height, age, weight, gender, until they actually sit there. With Casey, you can not ever know any one the answers to those questions if you don't talk with her, correct?"

"I…think so?"

Boone shifted slightly, resting his chin in his hand. "Okay, bad analogy." He admits. I can't help but agree. "Look, that is my advice, as cliché as it sounds – you'll never know until you talk to her. It's not going to be as bad as you think, trust me. Be a man about it."

"Well, I would talk to her, but she's gone and has been rejecting my calls all morning. Now how do you suppose I get in touch with her, Mr. Know-It-All?"

At this, Boone smirked, getting up and walking away from the booth we were occupying. "Derek, answer your phone."


End file.
